Of Fighter Pilots & Watchers
by NephilimEQ
Summary: REPOSTING! What if Rupert Giles hadn't become a Watcher...what if he'd been a fighter pilot instead? A story about how no matter what you do, you can't escape fate.
1. Chapter 1

**Of Fighter Pilots and Watchers**

_Summary_: What if Rupert Giles had become a fighter pilot instead of a Watcher? Here's what happens when you try to escape your destiny.

_Rating_: PG-13ish, possibly M later on...still not quite sure

_Spoilers_: Never Kill A Boy On A First Date, Halloween

_Disclaimer_: I do not own any of these characters, though at times I wish...please, Joss, I beg you!

_Author_: E. Quackenbush aka NephilimEQ aka elisedq-ocd18

_Author's Notes_: This is a story that I really love writing, and I hope that you enjoy my reposting of it!

* * *

Dry. Dusty. Empty.

A shadow across the ground accompanied with the distant cry of a buzzard. But the sound was soon drowned out by a low engine-like hum, gradually getting louder and louder with each passing second.

Dark shadows now covered the ground, and if one shaded one's eyes and looked closely, you could see their destination.

A flash of distant light, almost like water, reflected at the base of the mountains in almost indistinguishable rectangles, one of the few things that broke up the never-ending line between earth and sky. A darker shadow against another shadow, but the slight hiss and crackle of electricity told one that it was very much alive.

Very soon, the sound of radios buzzing and jets landing was all that filled the air in the dusty and mostly vacant desert. It was the first week of December and the pilots were coming in from their' assignments, looking forward to their holiday. A ten week break from the sky.

One of the jets that had been stationary for a few minutes after landing, finally opened up.

A tall, strikingly handsome man stood up inside and pulled his helmet off, eager to breathe fresh air, and although it was dry it had a sweet scent to it, something that only the desert had. He grabbed his gear, and then moving with an ease and familiarity that spoke of long years of experience, he leapt lightly to the ground from the wing, his long legs moving automatically, without a thought on his own part.

He walked a few yards away from his fighter, and stood on the tarmac, his hair pulling up in soft tufts as the wind softly blew over the airfield, carrying its' sweet scent.

With his dark aviator sunglasses, leather jacket, and handsome features, he looked like a man who had seen the world.

And he had.

Behind his sunglasses lay intense hazel eyes that had captured many a woman and fascinated them by the way they shone with a wry amusement. Always hinting on a side of danger, but glimmering with an intelligence that had captured many a woman. A slight quirk of his mouth was all that was needed to draw them in.

His eyes seemed to say that he knew of things that would fascinate and amaze anyone, and many had tried to find his secrets...

But no one ever had.

He had gone straight into the Royal Air Force when he was eighteen, and, of course, his father hadn't approved. He loved his father dearly and a brief pang of sadness gripped him as he remembered the last few years that they had spent apart before his father's death. He had never wanted it to be that way.

He sighed softly, and began walking once more, thinking about what lay in store for him for his holiday.

A friend sidled up next to him as they walked away from their jets, carrying similar equipment and managing to light a fag at the same time.

"Hey, Ripper...where you headed tonight?"

Rupert smiled at his friend. He knew what Ethan had in mind, but he had other plans. They continued to walk along, both of them enjoying the feel of the warm sun on their backs. Nevada was the exact opposite of England, but it was also one of Ethan's favorite places.

The reason why was very simple: money, booze, and women. Nevada had plenty of it and there was one place where you could do it all in one night...Reno: the casino-capital of the United States of America.

He turned his head, raising his voice slightly as the wind had picked up, making it hard to hear.

"Actually, I'm headed to California. Old friend there that I haven't seen in a long while."

Ethan grinned. "Lady friend?"

Rupert laughed. "No, sorry to disappoint. Remember that friend that I mentioned...the one from my Oxford days who continued his Watcher training?"

"You mean Wesley? The one with a stick up his arse? Yeah, I remember you telling me about 'em."

Rupert was the one to grin this time. That was pretty much how Ethan referred to anyone who wasn't Rupert. He was selective about the people that he liked...meaning that he only liked one person besides himself. Rupert laughed silently to himself, wondering how on earth Ethan had ever gotten into the air-force.

However, Rupert couldn't disagree with his old friend on this one. Wesley did have a stick up his arse...but he was also a likeable fellow and one of the few people that Rupert still kept in touch with from those days.

"Well," said Rupert, taking a deep breath. "It seems he's had a Slayer now for the last three and half years or so...and he wants me to meet her."

Ethan choked slightly, as he had been drawing a smoke. "You've got to be bloody kidding me! Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, mister never-had-a-class-I-didn't-like Pryce, actually has had a Slayer for that long? An' 'e hasn't gotten 'er killed? Wow, now that's a surprise. I bet anything that she's the one who's been saving his arse for all these years...bet ya that's a full-time job."

Rupert let out a short bark of what might have been laughter, while glancing at Ethan from the corner of his eye. He took a long look at his friend, who was taking a long drag off the fag, and then slowly exhaling.

Ethan Rayne. The closest friend that he'd ever had and also the most unstable person that he had ever met. Ethan was ruggedly handsome, in a wiry way, which accounted for why women enjoyed his company, but it still annoyed Ethan to no end that they enjoyed Rupert's company more.

Ethan had a tendency to drink too much, smoke too much...and do a little bit too much magic.

Rupert smiled inwardly, remembering their most recent adventure. They had started doing magic when they'd met, and throughout the years they had only grown more adept and more skilled...but of course, Rupert surpassed him.

However, Ethan wasn't threatened by him at all. He respected him, which was something that Rupert found endearing about Ethan. When it came to power, he understood that you had to respect it. They had learned that after the Eyghon incident. It had been that very incident that had woken up both him and Rupert from the world that they had created for themselves.

That had been when they joined.

It had been a sobering effect on both of them, but especially on Rupert. When it had happened he had been given the opportunity to go back to becoming a Watcher, but he hadn't taken it.

He had decided to leave that part of him behind...but not completely. He had been keeping track of the Slayers throughout the passing years, and had kept himself in good physical condition. He even did patrols on occasion in the places that he stayed. Even if he wasn't a Watcher, he still felt a small obligation towards his father's legacy.

He walked into the low slung military building, and he quickly made his way to his locker. God, he was dusty and tired and looking forward to his break.

A few hours later, showered, shaven, and dressed, he grabbed his bags, packed up the few personal belongings that he'd had in his locker, and walked up to the main gate to requisition a vehicle for his use. Flight Lieutenant Alexander Harris was there at the front gate, someone that Rupert knew quite well.

Harris was a likeable young man who had been helping the ground crew out for the summer. With dark hair and intense eyes, he was a relatively attractive young man. However, in his eyes he seemed to be the kind of person who'd had to grow up way too fast in a short amount of time.

After handing Harris the requisition form, it was only a few moments before the keys to his vehicle were in his hands.

As Rupert turned to leave, the young man spoke up.

"Wing Commander Rupert Giles?" He turned and looked up, surprised by how formally the flight lieutenant had addressed him. "I noticed you were going to Sunnydale, California, sir. It's a nice enough place, and you won't have to worry too much about excitement. Uh, I was wondering if it might be possible for me to come along, uh, sir?"

Rupert looked confused for a moment, wondering why the young officer-to-be was asking. "That depends, flight lieutenant. Why do you want to come?" At that, the young man lit up with pride. "Because it's my home, sir."

At that, Rupert nodded, and motioned for him to follow him...but then stopped. "Flight Lieutenant Harris...do you have permission to leave base?" Harris nodded, and then motioned towards a bag that was on his shoulder, though it hadn't been there a moment ago. Rupert surmised that he must have kept it behind the desk.

"My last shift just ended, sir. I...well, I don't have much money and I need a way to get back..."

The young flight lieutenant's voice faded, and Rupert felt empathy for the young man. Why not, he might as well have a companion for the almost six hour drive that he had before him.

Rupert motioned once more with his head. "Sure, you can come along."

A grin lit upon his companion's face, and he soon was in stride with Rupert Giles as they made their way to the vehicle. Rupert looked up as they approached it, and he was pleased to see that it wasn't exactly a vehicle...it was his old motorcycle. He grinned, tossing the keys up in the air and catching them with one hand, running the last few steps to his beloved bike.

Flight lieutenant Harris watched as the older man seemed to regard the bike with an affectionate glide of his hand over the leather of the seat.

"Oh, how I've missed you, beautiful," he said lovingly under his breath. He slid the bag onto the back and then motioned for the younger man to join him. "There's enough room, Harris. Just throw your bag onto the back and then secure with the cords on the sides, alright?"

His dark haired companion nodded, just happy to be going home in general, not really caring what mode of transportation he took.

He did as Rupert said and then slid onto the bike behind him. He looked for someplace to hold onto...anywhere besides the obvious. Rupert chuckled. "It's alright. Ethan's done it countless times...and I promise he won't get jealous."

Harris laughed at the joke, obviously used to relieve the tension, and without too much worry put his hands on the waist in front of him. The motor of the bike roared to life beneath them, and a grin spread across Rupert's face. God, it had been too damn long since he'd ridden, and now he had six hours ahead of him until he hit Sunnydale...

* * *

**Part 1/?**


	2. Chapter 2

It was a little over two hours into the drive, when Rupert decided to pull over.

They pulled into a small gas station just south-west of Dunn, California, in Yermo. It was a simple Am/Pm, which made things rather easy. He turned towards Harris as he got off the bike. "You fill it up, I'll go grab us some sustenance. What you want?"

Harris shrugged, already putting the gas pump into the proper place and letting it fill. "I don't know. Maybe some Dr. Pepper, some Twinkies, Ho Ho's...uh, you know, the usual kind of nutritional road food." Rupert laughed, and turned towards the small store, wondering about what he might get for himself.

He walked in and the only other person that he could see besides himself was the cashier; a teenager with a severe case of laziness.

He sighed, making his way among one of the three aisles. Everything was right there...it was a dentist's nightmare.

He grabbed a package of Ho Ho's, a package of Twinkies, two cans of Dr. Pepper (one for each of them), and two bags of beef jerky for himself. He paid in cash, and then headed back outside. Rupert found the flight lieutenant leaning casually against the bike, looking like somewhat of a rogue.

Rupert grinned to himself. He tossed the two packages towards his new-found friend, hoping to catch him unawares, but as if he had built-in radar for sweets he caught it effortlessly, not even looking up.

He then spoke up. "So...uh, Rupert, why you headed to Sunnydale?"

The older man examined the young man's face, wondering a bit at the expression that graced the fine features. He finally answered after a brief pause. "I'm headed to visit an old friend. His name's Wesley Wyndham-Pryce..." At that name, the soda that had originally been in Harris' mouth, sprayed out onto the dusty ground in front of him.

"Wesley? You _know_ him?"

Rupert was taken aback by this reaction, unsure of what to say. "Uh, yes...is that a problem?"

The flight lieutenant just shook his head in disbelief. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. He's my best friend's Watch—I mean, he's a mentor...helped me get through high school in one piece. And a few of my other friends, too. Sorta spineless at first, but he improved."

Rupert had caught what the young man had been about to say, and he suddenly realized that this seemingly normal and innocuous young man knew about Watchers and Slayers. Out of all people, he was riding with one of the few people who knew the Slayer. The chances were astronomical.

"Wait a moment, Harris...you know the Slayer?"

Harris looked up with a slightly panicked expression on his face. "What? I never said anything about—I mean, I have no idea what you're talking about."

Rupert started to laugh. After a moment, he managed to collect himself, and he turned to his friend. "It's all right...I know about Watchers and Slayers, Harris. I was in the same academy as Wesley, but...I chose a different path. How do you know the Slayer?" The flight lieutenant still had a shocked look on his face, but finally managed to speak.

"I, uh, I went to high school with her. Wesley was the librarian, and..." Rupert cut him off with a raise of his hand.

"Hold on a moment, Harris. I know all about Wesley, remember? It's his Slayer that I don't know anything about. C'mon, tell me everything. I'd love to be able to one-up the 'Whining Payne' for once. It would be priceless."

At this statement, Harris laughed.

"Alright, alright. I'll tell you. Her name's Buffy Summers and she's short and blonde...and don't you ever say to her that she's short because she'll hit you. Hard." Rupert nodded, a smile on his face, encouraging him wordlessly to continue. "She's gorgeous, stubborn, has a slight disregard for rules...and did I mention she's gorgeous?"

Rupert nodded, and then proffered up another question. "How old is she?"

"She's gonna be nineteen in a few months. Oh, and by the way, _Rupert_...please, please don't call me Harris. It's Xander." He raised his hand to stop any protests his friend might make. "Not Alexander, not Alex—just Xander."

Rupert nodded. "Alright, then."

He then looked at his watch and realized that if they wanted to get Sunnydale before nightfall, they would have to leave now. "Xander, we better leave now if we want to make it before the vampires come out and play..."

Xander nodded in vigorous agreement. "Oh, you'll get no arguments from me on that one." And with that, they packed up the rest of the stuff and got back onto the bike. As they pulled out, Rupert couldn't help but grin to himself under his helmet. This was going to be quite an interesting visit...

* * *

**Part 2/?**


	3. Chapter 3

They arrived in Sunnydale with about an hour and a half to spare until nightfall. He had already dropped of Xander at his own home, and was now following the directions that the young man had given him to get to Wesley's place.

He pulled into a small apartment complex, and quickly discovered that there wasn't a safe place to put his bike.

Rupert sighed, and looked around, trying to find an area in which he could at least hide it. There was no way that he was leaving his Triumph Bonneville out on the street. He soon found a set of bushes in which he could easily disguise it and keep it away from prying eyes...and fingers.

With his bike finally stashed away, he made his way to the apartment.

He casually rapped on the door and then waited. After a moment, he heard rustling coming from inside, and then the door finally opened. There in the doorway stood Wesley Wyndham-Pryce looking completely exhausted and worn out.

He looked at his visitor through dry eyes, and they widened as he realized who it was. "Rupert?"

Before he realized what was happening, Wesley suddenly wrapped him in a tight hug, completely taking him off guard. That had been one of the last things that he would have expected from his old friend. Wesley had never been a tactile sort of person, but the fierce grip that he found himself in told him otherwise.

Rupert returned the hug heartily, and then extricated himself from his friend's grasp. "Hello, Wesley. Thought that I might surprise you."

Wesley grinned. "Of course you would...please, come in."

The young Englishman ushered Rupert in with a hand on his shoulder and his other arm gesturing to the inside of the apartment. Rupert walked in, and suddenly stopped in his tracks.

It was as if he had been there before, as if he had seen the place a million times in his head. The walls were painted a muted sage green and had dark wood supports. The furniture was different, but all in the same places that he would have expected it to be. He glanced towards the kitchen, expecting to see a pot of tea on the stove...and there it was.

The feeling was so strong, it nearly knocked him off his feet.

He managed to shake the feeling off, and instead made his way to the couch on somewhat shaky legs. Wesley, being the observant Watcher, noticed that Rupert seemed out of sorts.

"Rupert...are you feeling alright?"

His voice was filled with genuine concern, and he looked back to see what Wesley was doing, and found him in the kitchen pouring two cups of tea. Rupert knew that he couldn't lie. "No, not entirely. I'm guessing it's from the long drive down here. Six hours is a long way to come on motorcycle."

Wesley nodded, silently wondering what the real problem was with his old friend. He knew that he was covering for something.

As he poured the tea into each of their cups, he remembered the last time that he had seen his friend...almost four years ago. That had been an incident to remember.

Rupert had nearly knocked him out because Wesley had had the audacity to suggest that Rupert should try to become a Watcher and to quit the force.

Luckily, he hadn't been injured...and it _had_ been pure luck that had saved him. In any kind of fight, fair or otherwise, he knew that Rupert "Ripper" Giles could take him down, anytime, anyplace. He glanced at his friend, who sat on the couch in the living area looking thoroughly confused at his surroundings.

Rupert's voice sounded in the small apartment as he called out to Wesley. "So, what has you so bedraggled, Wesley?"

He sighed as he brought the two cups of tea into the other room, placing one of them on the coffee table in front of his friend. "Well, things have been rather tense of late. Buffy has been having some trouble adjusting to college. I've told her that she shouldn't have decided to go in the first place as it distracts her from her duty, but-"

Giles laughed at that. "Are you serious? She's a young woman, Wesley...not a mindless killing machine or a tool. While everyone else thinks about having careers, she's busy trying to do her own job by saving the world on a weekly basis while at the same time trying to keep up the façade of being a normal girl...having the chance to go to university at least gives her the possibility that she _could_ be a normal girl..."

Wesley looked up from stirring his tea, a surprised look in his eyes. It was obvious from his reaction that he'd never thought of it that way.

Rupert immediately felt bad at the way he'd spoken. "I'm sorry, Wes...I spoke out of turn."

Wesley shook his head. "No, no...on the contrary you've opened my eyes quite a bit. I never thought about it quite in that way...not at all." He went pensive, and it was obvious that he was taking to heart what Giles had just said.

The silence that had fallen throughout the apartment was broken as the front door slammed open and someone stormed in. A young blonde girl, around nineteen, had a look of such fury in her eyes that it even threatened the Ripper. Wesley looked up, but didn't seem entirely surprised to see the young woman in his apartment.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted, seeming to grow with her anger.

Wesley merely gave her a confused look. "Buffy...I don't know what you're talking about, could you please slow down-?"

Buffy continued to stare at him angrily. "Like hell I will! You know exactly what I'm talking about, Wesley! You went and talked to Xander and Willow behind my back, you bastard!"

Wesley slowly stood, putting his hand into his pocket and slowly gathering his thoughts before he spoke. "Buffy...Xander and Willow are no more a help to you, if anything, they're a hindrance. I allowed them to help in high school because I was, well, letting you have an indulgence that most Slayers don't get to have..."

It was obvious that with each word she was becoming more and more incensed. "...Buffy, you are now in an unnecessary chaotic environment, and they might get unnecessarily hurt."

At that point she exploded.

"I have had it up to here with you, Wesley! Just because you're my Watcher, that doesn't mean that you get to dictate my life! You're lucky that I still even talk to you ever since that damn test last year! I need a life...what I _don't_ need is _you_. No, I _don't_ need you. Not anymore. This is just too much, and I can't take it anymore...I just can't take it. I want you _gone_."

As she had spoken, her eyes teared up. She made her way to the couch and then saw the other person in the room.

Rupert tentatively spoke up. "Um...hello?"

At that point, her tears had dried and she looked at him with something that he couldn't quite place. An odd feeling came over him as he looked at her...almost as though he knew her, and that he had seen her before.

She shook her head, wiping her face on the sleeve of her coat. "Who's this, Wesley?" As she said this, Buffy felt as though she'd seen him before, in the exact same place. Wesley finally found his voice, and introduced them to each other. "Buffy Summers, meet Rupert Giles, an old friend of mine from the academy."

Giles stood, reaching out a hand. "Pleased to meet you, Buffy."

She gave him a slightly watery smile and then reached out her own hand. "Nice to meet you to, Giles." As she said his last name, it felt as though she'd been saying it for years. Then as their' hands touched, she had to hold back a gasp.

'Good god, what was that?' was the only thought that registered in his mind as a shock ran through him as they touched.

He lifted his eyes to hers at the same time that she raised her eyes to his...when they saw each other staring at the other, they quickly dropped their hands. Wesley seemed completely oblivious by what was happening between the two people in front of him. He moved forward, reaching for the long forgotten tea on the coffee table.

Buffy looked once more at the man named Rupert Giles and was once again shaken by the feeling of familiarity. She tried to shake it off, but it continued to persist.

She tried to figure it out, tried to understand what was happening to her. He had turned partly away from her, giving her a clear view of his profile...and she was lost. God, he was a handsome man. High cheekbones, a sensuous mouth, and eyes that seemed to be hauntingly beautiful.

Was it crazy to think that he was someone from a past life that she knew? For all she knew, it was possible. Hell, anything was possible when you lived on a Hellmouth.

Wesley had been speaking for a while and it seemed that both she and Rupert tuned in at about the same time.

"...to see if we could talk about it another time. Now, I'd like to catch up with Rupert so you don't have to do your demon studies tonight, however we will continue tomorrow night." Buffy looked at him, incredulity written plainly upon her face.

Rupert saw this, and was just as surprised as she was about what Wesley had just said. "Excuse me? I do believe that I said I wanted you _gone_, or was I just imagining things?" Wesley turned to her, about to say something, but then Rupert spoke up. "You have her doing demon studies at the same time that she's doing university? Are you mad, Wesley?"

Buffy felt suddenly grateful for him being in the room. She metaphorically sat back and watched the sparks fly.

"I know it seems a bit much, but-" Giles interrupted. "A bit much? That's an understatement, even for you, Wesley! Demon studies is a full time endeavor in order for anyone to gain _any_thing out of it...let alone do it at the same time as university! There's a reason why they selected us when we were young, and that's because it was something that required a full lifetime investment, and to ask that of your Slayer is ridiculous! There's a reason why you're here, you idiot! _You_ were the one who learned the damn stuff so that you could _aid_ the Slayer...not so that you could order her around like she's just some-some tool to be used whenever _you_ damn well feel like it!"

His tirade finally ended, and then it occurred to him that for a girl that he had just met, he had defended her rather vehemently...and possibly crossed a few lines. But at that moment, he didn't care.

His chest heaved slightly as he regained his breath, and he couldn't help but notice the small grateful smile that appeared on the young woman's face.

Wesley turned on his friend, a hard look in his eyes. "I can't be there at all times, and she needs to learn independence. She cannot come running to me for every small thing, as I explained to her at the beginning of this year."

The condescension in his voice was disgusting, and Rupert turned away from him, holding his hands close to his sides, trying with all of his might not to deck the man on the spot. He managed to hold that part of him back and slowly turned back around to face his once very close friend. At that point, Buffy spoke up.

"I believe I told you to leave, Wesley."

He looked up at her, shock clearly written on his face. "You're asking me to leave my own home...? How dare you-"

She cut him off. "How dare me? How dare you, Wesley! I've given you so many chances, but guess what...you blew it. And no, I didn't ask you to leave...I _told_ you to. Now get out before I throw you out."

He spoke up, trying to reassert what he felt to be his rightful position. "Now see here, young lady, I am your Watcher and you will do exactly as I-"

Wesley suddenly found himself unable to finish that sentence as he was hoisted in the air by a very firm grip and found himself against the wall. A pair of dark green eyes bore right into him. When Giles spoke, it was truly the Ripper speaking. "I believe she told you to get out, Wesley. And be sure that even if she doesn't throw you out, I most surely will..."

He let the threat hang in the air the same way that Wesley was hanging for a brief moment, and then let the Watcher down. Correction, previous Watcher.

Wesley straightened his shirt and headed to the loft to pack his clothes. "The Council will hear about this, you know. You will be dealt with," he said over his shoulder as he ascended the stairs.

Buffy merely shrugged. "I don't give a damn...I don't work for your precious Council anymore, you got it?"

As he came back down the stairs, he turned towards Rupert. "Is this what you were planning all along? To take my spot as Watcher?" Rupert merely shook his head and sighed. "No...actually, I was looking forward to seeing you again, but it seems that you're no longer the man I knew, Wesley. It seems that the Council took it, along with all your common sense."

Wesley said nothing at these words, but instead turned and walked out of the apartment.

Buffy suddenly fell to the floor, and Rupert rushed to her side. "Are you alright?" She nodded, feeling physically exhausted after the emotional ordeal.

"Yeah...just relieved that he's finally gone."

She slowly stood as he supported her on one side with an arm around her waist. He led her to the couch and she sunk down gratefully onto the cushions. He sat down next to her and she looked up at him, suddenly realizing the absurdity of her situation.

Here she was with a man whom she barely knew, who used to be an old friend of Wesley's, right after she had kicked her own Watcher out of his house and quit the Council. She didn't even know that she could trust the man in front of her, but something inside of her told her that she could. That she could trust him with her life.

A slightly awkward silence fell between them, and after a few moments, Buffy finally broke the silence.

"So...what do you do if you're not a Watcher and you don't work for the Council?" He tilted his head and then hesitatingly answered. Why he hesitated, he didn't know. "I-I'm a fighter pilot."

She suddenly grinned. "You are? Now that's kinda cool...bet you've seen a lot of places."

He nodded in the affirmative. Suddenly the absurdity of the situation hit him and he started to laugh. At first it was quiet and breathy, but after a few moments it became a full out belly laugh, and she was right there along with him. A man once destined to be a Watcher suddenly found himself with a girl who was a Slayer and it couldn't be in a more ridiculous fashion.

* * *

**Part 3/?**


	4. Chapter 4

He woke up slowly, and for a moment wasn't sure as to where he was...and then he remembered.

Rupert Giles pulled himself out of the covers of the bed and dropped to the floor, starting his normal morning workout regiment. One hundred sit-ups and then one hundred push-ups, as he had done every morning for every day of his career. As he finished his sit-ups and moved on to the push-ups, his mind registered the sound of the front door opening closing. He ignored it and continued on.

Buffy Summers stood downstairs in what had been, up until last night, her Watcher's apartment. Now it temporarily belonged to a man whom she'd just met and barely knew.

She heard sounds of movement up in the loft, so she made her way up the stairs. What she saw made her jaw practically dislocate.

Good lord, that man had been hiding one hell of a body. She stared, transfixed by the sight of the man before her, muscles in his back flexing as he did push-up after push-up...wearing nothing but his boxers.

Apparently he hadn't heard her enter the room, because he continued on in his exercises while she drooled. Every single muscle in his back flexed with such strength...she'd never seen anyone like him before in her life. Yes, the guys at college were buff, but they had absolutely nothing on the raw, natural strength that this man exuded.

He lifted his eyes, and as he did so he saw the young woman that he had met last night standing right in front of him, her eyes obviously not focused on his face.

He held back a grin, but continued until he'd finished the set.

As soon as he was done, he stood up and then made his way over to his bag. He watched her from the corner of his eye, waiting for her to break the silence, but after a few long moments he realized that she wasn't going to.

He quickly threw on a shirt, and then broke the silence himself.

"So...what brings you over here so early in the morning?" At these words he saw her give a slight smile, almost as though she'd been expecting them. She quickly responded. "Well...I thought that I should probably go ahead and thank the guy who got rid of my woefully incompetent Watcher and took his place..."

At her last words, he grimaced. "I did not, um, 'replace' Wesley...I'm merely using his flat."

She shrugged, not really caring.

"Either way, you got rid of him. And that is something that I am most definitely grateful for..."

Her look was one of genuine gratitude, and she found it amusing at how he reacted. A blush slowly crept up his face and he began to stutter out a response, but it was obvious that he had no idea how to react. It was actually rather adorable...not that she would ever tell him that, of course.

"W-Well, that is, I mean..." His voice faded, and she had a feeling that he was quite bewildered by her response.

She just shook her head, and then motioned towards the stairs. "I'll jut wait until you're done, and then we can talk. See you in a few." With that, she went down the stairs, leaving him in her wake.

He finally came to his senses and reached for a pair of pants from his bag, slowly pulling them on.

He would have to wait until later to get his shower. When he had a Slayer waiting for him, he felt that it was best that he not dally. Who knew what an impatient Slayer was capable of? He certainly didn't, and he didn't want to be the one to find out, either. He went ahead and grabbed his running shoes as he headed down the stairs.

He was still getting used to the feel of the apartment, but for some strange and unapparent reason, he felt as though he'd always lived there.

As he stepped off the last step, he spoke up, not even thinking about what he was saying. "Would you like some tea?"

Buffy, who'd been merely sitting and waiting, answered without even thinking. "Yes, please."

He nodded. "Of course...two sugars, no milk, no honey..." As soon as the words left his lips, he wondered where in the hell they'd come from. He glanced over at her, and she looked up at him in shock. How the hell had he'd known that? From the look on his face, she realized that he was just as confused as she was.

She just smiled. "Yeah, that's right...thanks."

He opened his mouth, as though intending to say something, but instead was left trying to find the words to respond as he gaped like a codfish.

Rupert then decided that nothing could be said, and instead walked the rest of the way to the kitchen, focusing on the task at hand.

It was at that point that Buffy realized that something was...different. Well, no, not different, really. It was more...off. But at the same time, everything seemed so damn familiar and it was driving her crazy trying to figure out why. It felt as though she'd gone through these motions a million times before...but she knew that she hadn't...didn't she?

Unbeknownst to her, Rupert Giles was going through much of the same thought process in the other room.

As he set up the tea, he automatically did the motions, not thinking about it, until he realized that he already knew where everything was...now _that_ was weird.

'Not that what happened earlier _wasn't_ weird?' he thought to himself as he placed the kettle on the stove.

He shook his head, and turned towards the cupboard, pulling out a box of biscuits and placing a few of them onto a tray, knowing how much Buffy liked them. Okay, that was it. He slammed down the tray on the counter, trying to hold himself in. How the hell did he know that? It made no sense! But at the same time, it made every sort of sense.

He sighed, realizing that it wasn't going to be solved by doing nothing, and the walked resignedly into the living room...

* * *

**Part 4/?**


End file.
